


Plant your hope with good seeds

by impossibletruths



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Language of Flowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 10:26:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7680778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossibletruths/pseuds/impossibletruths
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pike finds a message written in flowers left in her room, and Keyleth helps her decipher it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plant your hope with good seeds

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Thistles and Weeds" by Mumfords & Sons

Someone has left flowers on her bed.

“Oh, Scanlan,” Pike murmurs, eyes shifting over to the secret door in the wall, and the dresser sitting in front of it. She gathers them with a warm fondness and a hint of exasperation; she’s not entirely certain where they stand but she appreciates the consistency of this… whatever it is. Mostly.

Nevertheless, she plucks each stem from her bedspread and gathers them in her arms. The heady scent of flowers fills the air like the sigh of late spring, warm and sweet, and Pike takes a moment to burry her face in the blossoms before she huffs out a tired laugh and nudges the door open. She will return them to Scanlan with a gentle thank you and a clear refusal; she appreciates the gesture, but this is too much.

Besides, she has nowhere to keep them.

She opens the door almost directly into Keyleth, and in her haste to keep it from hitting the druid, she drops the flowers. Blossoms scatter across the hall, pink and white and blue and lavender petals falling around them.

“Oh, goodness, I didn’t see you,” Pike says, heart beating a little too fast. It would be nice, she thinks ruefully, to be able to fully relax. For even a few minutes.

“Pike!” Keyleth stares, a rabbit-in-a-trap look on her face. “Hi! Wow!”

“I was just going to return these to Scanlan,” Pike says, kneeling down to pick up a sprig of wisteria. “They’re lovely but I have nowhere to keep them, and I can’t very well sleep on them.”

“Oh,” says Keyleth, wringing her hands a little. Her circlet sits slightly askew on her head, and the flowers tucked behind her ears seem crooked. “Oh, um. Actually. Those are from me.”

Pike pauses where she is, stems hanging loosely in one hand.

“I’m sorry?”

“I–– They’re from me. Percy said it was good to get people flowers, and well, they have specific meanings, so I thought I would–– I’m sorry, I thought you might like them, I didn’t mean to make a mess––” She bends down and starts to pick them up, hiding her face behind a curtain of hair, and Pike stands so they are almost level.

“Keyleth, wait.” She stays there until the druid looks at her, certain she has her attention, and when the girl looks up she smiles, warmth tinged with apology. “I didn’t know they had meanings.”

“Among the Ashari…” she starts, and trails off until Pike nods encouragingly. “Among the Ashari, flowers have–– they’re sort of like codes.”

“What do these mean?” Pike asks, looking at the scattered remains of her bouquet. “Will you tell me? Please?”

“Um. Alright?” Keyleth takes a deep breath and sits against the wall, tailor style. For a moment nothing happens, then magic twitches at her fingertips and the scattered flowers come together into a neat bouquet, including the one in Pike’s hand. She hands it over before patting the ground next to her, an invitation. Pike sinks down onto her knees with a small smile.

“This one––” says Keyleth when Pike has settled, pointing to a long stalk of purple-blue flowers, “is larkspur. It means a beautiful soul. Like you.” She picks out another flower, round and white. “This is camellia. Graciousness.” She hesitates, and Pike picks out another flower, a swirl of purple.

“And this one?”

“Hyacinth. For sincerity.”

“This?” A pale pink blossom, almost square.

“Gladiolus. It’s, um, inner strength. Strength of character, I mean.”

Pike blushes a little and picks another flower. “This is wisteria,” she says, a little surprised she recognizes it. “What does it mean?”

“Steadfastness.”

“And this?” She doesn’t recognize the last one, small and pink and fragile looking.

“Cosmos,” Keyleth murmurs, as if such a tiny flower could be such an enormous thing. “It means peace.” For a moment they are silent, side-by-side in the hallway, staring at an armful of flowers.

“Keyleth,” says Pike softly, so as not to startle her. “Why did you leave me flowers?”

“I thought you should know how important you are, to us. To me. And, I’m not good with talking, but I know a lot about plants, and I just thought–– I’m not sure. I just thought you should know.” She says it all in one breath, like she’s afraid to stop for air until she has said her piece. Then she falls silent for a moment, and looks down at the flowers. Concern and uncertainty war on her face. “Are they alright?”

“I love them,” says Pike, and she presses a soft kiss to Keyleth’s cheek. The druid blushes, pink as her gift. “Thank you.”

“I can craft a vase for you,” she offers, emboldened. “I mean, if you want to keep them?”

“That would be wonderful,” Pike says, and Keyleth lights up in an instant.

When Pike finally goes to bed, a bouquet of sincerity-peace-graciousness-spirit-steadfast-strength sits on her dresser, a reminder of her family and her love, and she sleeps that night with a smile on her face and a renewed warmth in her heart.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Plant your hope with good seeds [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10036367) by [blackglass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackglass/pseuds/blackglass)




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